


Non-Refundable

by theanatomyofadreamer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Escort Service, Extreme and shameless fluff, Fluff, M/M, Physical Disability, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theanatomyofadreamer/pseuds/theanatomyofadreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[On Indefinite Hiatus]  Harry Potter has been single for far too long. When a rent-a-date service is suggested to him, he applies on a whim. Unknown to him, he forgot to specify gender on his application. So when the time comes to meet his temporary girlfriend, instead he is greeted by a face from the past- Draco Malfoy. And this service is non-refundable...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The silence of 12 Grimmauld Place seemed to engulf him and everything in it, swallowing up any signs of life and reminding him of just how alone he truly was. At twenty-five, Harry Potter felt like his life had reached its end.  He’d lost count of how many years he’d been alone now. He hadn’t dated anyone since he and Ginny had broken up just after the war. He’d been too busy to date, throwing himself into his Auror training and then eventually his career, but that too had been short-lived.

 He took his right leg in both his hands and lifted it up onto a footrest that sat before the sofa. It had been nearly a year since he had been hit by that dark curse that had destroyed his leg and left him grotesquely scarred and with a bad limp. The Healers had advised him to use a cane to walk around but his pride wouldn’t allow him and he had only damaged the limb further in his foolishness. The damage had been irreversible and Kingsley had removed him from the Auror services and placed him in a desk job that he despised. Harry pulled up the leg of his trousers and stared at the red puckered and inflamed skin, marred by scar tissue and damaged epidermis. He winced in pain when his fingertips made contact with the wound. He took the cream from the coffee table, lathered it on both hands and applied it generously to his leg. This had to be done multiple times a day to ease the pain, but it still hurt. It always hurt.

Harry slumped back onto the couch with a sigh. The morning paper sat discarded on the other side of the couch, along with the mail that his owl Aberforth had delivered that morning. He reached over and grabbed the stack of paper and began sorting through it.  He was surprised to see a letter from Seamus among the pile. His former partner sent him joke items and silly articles from time to time. He knew how miserable Harry had been since the injury. Bracing himself for an explosion of some sort, Harry opened the envelope. Inside sat what looked like a little business card and a letter. He tipped the card out into his palm and examined it.

                _“Discreet escort service, now with added feature: rent a date/significant other for as long as you require.”_

There was contact information on the back, namely a postal address. He unfolded the letter.

                _“Dear Harry,_

_Look what I found! It’s essentially a rent-a-girlfriend service! Perfect, right? I’ve already got you a request form, all you gotta do is fill it out and return it to the address on the card._

_You can thank me later,_

_Seamus”_

The urge to crumple up both the card and the letter and toss them in the fire was nearly overwhelming. The second page of the letter was the form Seamus had mentioned. He scanned through it. It didn’t seem too complicated, mostly a fill in the blank form. All he had to do was enter traits he found desirable... And he didn’t exactly have anything to lose, did he?

He wasn’t sure what came over him, but he accioed a quill and began to write, using his good leg as a surface.

_“Twenty-five year old male seeks a witty, intelligent and attractive companion. Must like debates, intelligent conversations, puzzles and Quidditch. Preferred physical traits are lithe, strong features, athletic build-”_

He looked down at what he had written so far and wondered if he’d just described Ginny. He needed to add something that she didn’t have, something to make it seem like she hadn’t been perfect for him, despite the lack of chemistry. Finally, he added,

“ _-blue eyes.”_

At the foot of the form, there was a line asking for his address, which he included, and finally, it asked how long he would be requesting his match’s company. There were a few boxes, ranging from three days to three weeks. Harry hesitated. Well, he’d already dived to this depth of desperation; he may as well let his feet touch the bottom of the pit. He ticked three weeks. A price request of 200 Galleons appeared in black ink. He summoned his check book, the one he used under Dudley’s name for occasions that required utmost discretion and signed it for the requested price and enclosed it with the form. He addressed a fresh envelope to the escort company and sealed it. Getting back on his feet again was a struggle like it always was, but he made it over to the window eventually. As he opened the old creaky window, Aberforth, the old grey owl, swooped down onto the sill and chirped solemnly at him in greeting. As he watched the bird take off with his letter, he wondered if his standards were flying away with it.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, a response addressed to a Mr Dudley Dursley had arrived and informed him that his new companion would arrive in exactly one week. Harry put aside the thought of it until the weekend when, with the help of Kreacher, he scoured the house from top to bottom, clearing out years of dust and decades of unused items in long forgotten rooms. It was only when he tried to clean the house that he realised how large it truly was. The biggest dilemma he faced concerned… sleeping arrangements. Would she stay here with him? Or maybe only occasionally? He would have to be prepared. It would be much too presumptuous of him to assume they would be… sharing a bed so he made up the nicest of the spare rooms for his guest.

The thought of a woman in Grimmauld Place wouldn’t register. It was too dark, too grey, too masculine a place. It suited Harry in his solitude and melancholy. But he had signed up to invite a stranger into his life and also into his house for three weeks so he had to make his proverbial bed, but also this _literal_ one in the fresh white sheets he had just bought. Apart from the occasional glance into Ginny’s room, and stepping inside of it once, he knew nothing of girls’ bedrooms, let alone the bedrooms of women. He figured white was neutral.

The house had never looked better. The small amount of order he’d managed to exact on the place had made a world of difference and had shaken off some of the darkness the house had held. Some of his own darkness had lifted too and had been replaced by buzzing anxiety. The morning of his guest’s arrival, he completed a final lap of the house. Pride probably wasn’t the correct word, but he felt that it would do. He had taken a half-day in work so he would be home to greet them, but also gave him something to do in the meantime that wasn’t pacing the house until he grew dizzy or managed to think himself into cancelling, which was something that crossed his mind more than once since placing that order.

Did he really need a girlfriend? And was renting one _really_ the way to go? They were human, not dress robes that he could just wear for a few days and return for store credit. The situation felt wrong… No “wrong” wasn’t the right word. _Desperate._ The situation felt desperate. But he had to be honest with himself- that was the level he had reached. Plus the ad guaranteed discretion, which was something the Saviour of the Wizarding World sought more than anything right now. The first two years post-Ginny had been a media nightmare. The Daily Prophet liked to publish a picture of him with any female he spoke to ever and speculate that they were dating. This eventually grew old, and then came the rumours that he was gay, which he just laughed off, never confirming nor denying it. The last few months his name had been making appearances in the tabloids again, although not on the front pages as was customary, but in the society section, the section usually dominated by the upper-class pure-blood families and wizarding fashion icons like Narcissa Malfoy. The reason he appeared there was not because of his flawless style, needless to say. Rather, it was to ponder 'Where Was He Now!'. Harry Potter had disappeared from the public eye and on particularly slow news days, he was used as fodder to fill the columns.

Resigning himself to the fact that his house would never be cleaner than it was right now, he checked his watch and realised that he really should have been in work five minutes rather than taking a fourth lap of his residence. When he eventually came bailing into the office, moving as fast as his leg would allow, Seamus was leaning against his desk, arms and ankles crossed. He fixed Harry with the same look he’d been giving him every day for the last week.

“For God’s sake, Seamus!”

“I take it you haven’t contacted them then” Seamus sighed and pushed off Harry’s desk, watching Harry move around the desk and take his seat behind it.

“Of course not Seamus, I don’t know how desperate you think I am” he lied, pulling out his “in” tray and beginning to sort through the paperwork.

“I’m not saying you’re desperate, Harry. You just seem-“ Seamus cut himself off.

“No, go on, how do I seem?” Harry challenged.

“Well” Seamus hesitated. “Lonely, I guess.”

Harry sharply averted his gaze from his friend. Lonely wasn’t a strong enough word for what he’d felt these last few years. “I really appreciate your concern, really I do, but I just don’t think this is the method for me. I’d rather meet someone the old fashioned way, you know? On my own terms and my own time.”

Seamus nodded thoughtfully. "You're right mate. I'm sorry I pushed so hard. But you know, Ron and Hermione's wedding is in two months and you'll be expected to have a date, or at least a plus one."

Shit. He'd forgotten about that.

Seamus took his silence as a sign to continue. “I know you, Harry, probably better than anyone at this point. I’m worried that you’ll spend the whole celebration sitting silently at a table alone and literally never move. If you brought someone, you’d at least be speaking to someone for the evening. So, you know, if you can’t find a date yourself, maybe you can rent one.”

“I’ll think about it” Harry said with as much authenticity as he could muster, given the situation.

“That’s all I ask” Seamus said with a grin. “Just hang on to that business card, yeah?”

“I will. Now are you going to stand there all day or you actually going to go do your job?”

“Yeah, yeah” Seamus waved at him dismissively. He turned to the leave, but hesitated. "Hey, you up for a drink later?"

Harry froze. "Oh um, I can't today. I have somewhere to be in a few hours."

His former partner shrugged. "Alright. Another time then."

As Seamus left the office, Harry let out a sigh of relief and turned his attention to the mass of paperwork that had accumulated on his desk overnight.  It was only when the intern who brought the coffee passed his door that he realised that a few hours had passed while he had been in a paperwork-fuelled trance. He cast a quick tempus charm and realised he should have left a full forty minutes ago. Throwing the remaining papers into his drawer, he grabbed his coat and ran from the office as fast as his damaged leg could carry him.

He was panting and damp with sweat as he collapsed through his own front door. He hung up his coat in the hall and checked the old clock that hung on the wall. The pain in his leg was too much, aggravated by running, and he took a dark wood cane from the umbrella stand to lean against. His guest would be arriving any minute now. He knew without the aid of a mirror that he looked a mess, dishevelled and panicked, but decided to bite the bullet and check anyway. Merlin, he looked tired… His normally untameable hair resembled a post-hurricane palm tree and no amount of running his hands through it or even his own saliva could remedy it. Sighing, he gave up and adjusted his glasses, the same frames he’d had for ever now, and tried a smile. He was aiming for friendly but the result was more of a wince.

“I give up” he groaned aloud to the empty house.

But since nothing ever went Harry Potter’s way, there was no time to give up because at that moment, the old brass door knocker creaked under someone’s hand and fell three times against the wood. Harry jumped at the sound, losing his grip on the cane and sending it clattering to the floor.

“Just a minute!” he called in an attempt to sound further away than he was. He kicked the cane aside and moved to the door. His heart hammered in his ears and a toxic cocktail of anxiety, regret and excited boiled in his stomach. Here it was, the moment he’d been anticipating all week. He opened the door.

“Hi, you must be Mr- Potter!”

Standing before him, face contorted in horror and surprise, was Draco Malfoy.  


	3. Chapter 3

“Malfoy!” Harry gasped, although it came out as more of a whimper. “There must be some-“

But Malfoy was already stepping around him and strolling through the front door like he owned the place, surveying the entranceway with his usual judgemental stare and slightly upturned lip. “This really is a grim old place, isn’t it Potter? Not at all what I expected from you, if I’m honest. I pictured more crimson and gold, a running theme of lions perhaps.”

“Think about me often, do you?” Harry sniped.

“Shut up, Potter” Malfoy returned without pause.

“What are you doing- And now you’re in my sitting room. Great” Harry sighed, closed the door and followed the unwanted house guest into the sitting room before trying again. “What are you doing here?”

Malfoy, who had been surveying the old Black family portrait that Harry had been meaning to remove but just never got around to, turned back to Harry with a smug look on his face. “You ordered me, remember?”

Harry felt his mouth fall open. “No. I did not.”

“Funny, because I have an order from a Mr. Dudley Dursley for this address. And I’ve come to this address only to find… _you_ ” he sneered and Harry balled his fists at his side as his frustration began to rise. “It was you, Potter, wasn’t it?”

“It was” Harry managed to force out between his gritted teeth. “But I didn’t order _you._ I rented a girlfriend. It was a girlfriend service-“

“Actually, Potter, we cater to all genders and sexualities but I’m sure you knew that. You did select female on your form, right?”

 _Shit._ “Ehm, no?”

“Ah” Malfoy said. He raised a thin hand to cover his mouth and the grin that had spread across it. “Well in that case, they must have matched us based on your requested personality and appearance traits-“ At this point, Malfoy had burst into laughter. “Am I your dream man, Potter?”

“God no!” Harry cried in disgust. “No. Never!”

Malfoy was still laughing, doubled over and clutching his stomach as the laughter tore out of his throat and his face scrunched in an expression that was entirely unbecoming of his usual haughty aura. Harry’s face was bright red at this point and he wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or anger.

“It was a mistake. I must have overlooked that part or something. But its fine, we can just get in touch with the company and tell them.”

Malfoy seemed to be sobering up at this point. His breathing was shaky, every few breaths would end in another giggle, and he was wiping tears from the corner of his cold blue eyes. “Sorry, Potter. You paid upfront for- what was it? Three weeks?”

Harry shrugged. “I’ll just get a refund.”

“I’m afraid it’s non-refundable. You’ll either have to forfeit your payment or pay again for another escort.”

Harry gaped. “That was a lot of money!”

Malfoy grinned. “I know. I set my own prices.”

“Then you’ll know that it’s a lot of money to just give up!”

Malfoy shrugged, he was back to examining everything in the room. “Then just avail of my services then.”

“What?” Harry blanched.

“You paid for three weeks. Might as well get what you paid for.”

“You mean… Keep you?!”

“I’m not a stray dog, Potter. You don’t get to pick me up and keep me.”

“I don’t understand-“

Malfoy scoffed, “Nothing new there.”

Harry let that one go. “What do you mean ‘avail of your services’? I’m not interested in having sex with you-“

“I don’t have sex with my clients” Malfoy interrupted _yet again._ “It’s not part of my contract.”

“Then what is it you do, exactly?”

“I provide companionship. Mostly, it’s for singular events, dates for weddings or school reunions, that sort of thing. But sometimes it’s for longer than that. Sometimes loneliness gets too much for people and that’s where I come in. Whatever their reason- maybe they just got out of a relationship or they find it difficult to socialise- I’m there. I simulate a real relationship for them and allow them to recover at their own rate and rebuild. It’s nothing untoward, I assure you. Usually, they take me out on dates or we do activities together, like a real couple would.”

Shit. While that sounded entirely unlike Malfoy, it sounded exactly what Harry was looking for. If only he hadn’t screwed up his order.  

“So have you made a decision?” Malfoy asked. “About whether you’ll be carrying through with your request? Because if I leave now, I could be home on time for dinner and I’d like to know whether I shall be keeping my schedule free for the next few weeks.”

“Oh! Right” Harry fumbled. “Well, it’s just… I don’t know… I-“

“You know, Potter, it’s okay if you’re lonely. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. The service promises discretion and regardless of our personal history, I’m professional when it comes to my job. So you needn’t worry about me running to the Daily Prophet or anything.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve sold me out” Harry pointed out.

Malfoy chuckled. “That was before I owed you my life.” Malfoy caught his eye at this moment and held his gaze for a second.

“If I were to decide to go through with this- _if-_ what would it involve exactly?”

Malfoy tipped his head slightly, his expression thoughtful as he considered this. “Well, in this instance, it would probably involve getting to know each other. As in, properly this time. And then, you can decide whether you’d like to keep it platonic or not, and in that case, we would progress to the usual dates or activities or whatever it is that interests you as the client.”

Harry found himself frowning. “I’m not gay.”

Malfoy merely raised an eyebrow at this.

“I’m _not”_ Harry insisted. “I told you already, this was a mistake. It was merely coincidence that they paired us.”

“I don’t believe in coincidence.”

“Either way, I’m not gay.”

“That’s fine.”

“…Are you?”

Malfoy smirked. “Bit personal there, Potter, isn’t it?”

Harry blushed. “Sorry.”

“Well, after that fantastic start” Malfoy began, clapping his hands together, “why don’t we call it a day? How about I come back tomorrow and we just… start over. Fresh slate and whatnot. I think tolerance is an acceptable starting goal, and who knows, maybe we can even be friends one day.”

Harry nodded, slowly, unsurely, but managed a smile. “I think that’s a fair enough goal.”

Malfoy nodded in return. “I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then, Potter. Same time? Don’t worry, I’ll see myself out.”

And like that, he was gone and Harry was alone in the grey surroundings of his own sitting room, once again aware of just how empty this house was, now that it no longer had voices or the sound of laughter to fill it.

*

The next day, Harry woke with a sense of dread settled deep in his stomach. He was convinced that by the end of the day, he’d have lost 200 Galleons and spent the morning trying to resign himself to that fact. At the same time as the day before, there was a knock on the front door.

The pleasant smile that Malfoy greeted him with was a surprise. “Evening” Malfoy chirped.

“Evening…?” Harry returned unsurely and stepped aside to let Malfoy in.

Malfoy strode right past him and into the sitting room, as he had done the day before. Again, he began to examine the place. Harry stood awkwardly in the door, completely baffled by the entire situation. Malfoy took one look at him and snorted. “This is the part where you tell me to take a seat and offer me a drink, tea is most appropriate at this time.”

Harry jumped. “Oh right! Do you want a cup of tea or something?”

“That would be a great idea!” Malfoy’s tone was only slightly patronising but Harry narrowed his eyes at him anyway, before he went off to brew a pot between them. He always made tea the muggle way, as he believed magic corrupted the taste, so when he returned a few minutes later, Malfoy had settled himself on the settee, looking like he belonged there. Harry set the tea set that he had levitated from the kitchen on the small table and sat down opposite Malfoy.

“Well” Malfoy began, heaping sugar into his mug and pouring the tea in over it.

“Well” Harry parroted.

“This is strange, isn’t it?” Malfoy grinned.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t think strange is a strong enough word, Malfoy.”

“If we’re going to be around each other for the next few weeks, you’re going to have to use my first name.”

“Right,” Harry said with a nod. “Okay.”

“Let’s start at the beginning here. What made you choose our company?” Draco asked, raising his mug to his lips and settled back in his seat.

Harry sighed. There was no point in being dishonest. "You were right when you guessed I was lonely. I haven't dated anyone since Ginny and things just got worse since I had to give up being an Auror. My job is pretty boring compared to yours." Harry gave a weak laugh.

Draco set his teacup down. "You had to give up being an Auror?"

"Yeah. There was... There was an accident. I couldn't keep my job." Draco, reading Harry's unwillingness, didn't push any further. Harry continued, "Anyway, my former partner is desperate to set me up with someone and sent me the card for your company."

Draco grinned. “And look how well that turned out for you.” Harry laughed, despite himself. “So tell me, what do you do in your free time?”

Harry felt his cheeks flush. “Nothing, really. I don’t really do anything or go anywhere.”

“Well, that’s just sad, Potter.” Suddenly Malfoy was on his feet. “The way I see it, we can either sit here and pity you, or we can eat because I’m actually pretty hungry.”

“I thought for 200 Galleons you’d feed yourself!” Harry teased.

“Shut up” Draco returned, but his voice held none of its usual malice. He began making his way in the direction of the kitchen.

In a panic, Harry pulled himself to his feet as quickly as he could, ignoring the sharp pain that shot up his shin and through his kneecaps, but Draco had reached the fridge before Harry could stop him. The barren wasteland and half block of cheese that greeted them both made Harry wince in embarrassment.

Draco sighed. “I knew you were always a bit of a mess but seriously Potter. How are you even alive?”

“Toast, mostly” Harry grumbled in response.

“Well, as good as your toasting skills may be, I think it’s time you bought some _real_ food. Honestly, when was the last time you went shopping?”

Harry shrugged a shoulder and leaned against the counter for support, hoping the action came across as nonchalant. “Couple weeks ago, maybe. I’m very busy!”

“Yes, hating your job takes up an inordinate amount of time, I can imagine.” Draco shut the fridge with a flick of his wrist. “Grab your coat, we’re going shopping.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta and best friend, Bree for helping me finish this chapter


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the crazy delay on this one. It was a combination of writer's block and sickness that made this chapter a terror to get through. Hopefully it won't be a terror to read. Thanks again to Bree for kicking my ass the whole way through this and getting it out, even if it is a month later than I'd originally intended.

 

Harry Potter still wasn’t entirely sure how he found himself in the middle of his local Tesco, pushing a half-full trolley behind Draco Malfoy. One second they’d been bickering in his hallway, the next Draco was shoving a trolley at him, ordering him to “just follow me”.

“I don’t _need_ two watermelons, Malfoy.”

“Of course you do, Potter. Fruit is good for you.”

Harry let out what had to be his four hundredth sigh since they’d gotten there and just shut his mouth and tightened his grip on the trolley. However when Draco carefully but wordlessly placed a bottle of white wine (Harry, as a rule, only drank red) into the trolley, Harry felt he had to speak up and say something.

 “I get the distinct feeling that everything in here is just all your favourite foods.”

The grin he received in return was the definition of wicked. “You would be right about that Potter.”

“This is going to be so expensive!” he protested.

Draco merely shrugged. “What can I say? I like the finer things in life.” When Harry began to grind his teeth in silent frustration, Draco relented. “Fine, I’ll pay for most of it.”

This made Harry feel marginally better. “You know, you seem pretty familiar with Muggle supermarkets for a pure-blood.”

Draco’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t know what they’ve been telling you about us, but we need to eat too.”

“I never actually thought of how wizards do their grocery shopping!” Harry confessed defensively.

“If you did think, I’d be worried” Malfoy quipped. “A colleague brought me to a Muggle supermarket and showed me how it worked. They’re so much easier than markets and things. Otherwise, I would have never gone near the things. I mean, have you seen the colour scheme of this place? It’s hardly enticing.” Only Draco Malfoy would judge the colour scheme of a Tesco from the middle of the wine aisle of a Tesco.

“Can we get out of here now?” Harry whined. He’d been leaning heavily on the trolley for the last few aisles, trying not to let his expression show the pain he was in. “I’m starving.”

“Fine” Draco sighed, surveying the partially full trolley. “Since I seem to have filled this thing myself, I should probably ask if you want anything. What do you eat other than toast that is?”

Harry gave a non-committal shrug. Years with the Dursleys had taught him not to be picky when it came to food. “It’s not that I _can’t_ cook, but rather that I choose not to. Particularly on shopping days. They’re kebab days.”

It was as if Harry said he ate the flesh of dead babies on shopping days with the look of disgust Malfoy shot him.

“What’s wrong with kebabs?”

“Unlike you, I’m conscious of what I put in my body.”

Harry snorted. “I bet you are.” The glare he got in response was not a surprise. “Have you ever even tried one?”

“Of course not.”

“Then how do you know that you don’t like them?”

They stared at each other for a few minutes, Harry’s eyebrows raised expectantly and Draco’s eyes narrowed in distaste, until a look of realisation passed over the blonde’s face.

“Oh no” he began, “I will not-“

“You’re trying one and that’s the end.”

*

Harry put two plates, two glasses and cutlery down on the table, where Draco sat, pulling food out of the brown paper bag, frowning at everything before passing it onto the plates.

“I want it noted that I’m doing this against my will.”

Harry merely rolled his eyes and sat down.

“And tell me Potter, what wine would you recommend to go with this… delightful delicacy?”

“Just shut up and eat, Malfoy” he returned impatiently, ripping open the white paper bag that encased his kebab and tipping his chips out onto the plate. He noticed his guest watching him closely for a moment before doing the same. Usually, he ate the kebab with his hands, but since he was in company, he opted for a knife and fork instead. He watched the other man carefully, as he cut off a corner of the pita bread, studied it carefully and unsurely placed it in his mouth.

“Shit! You never told me it would be spicy!”

“I didn’t think it would be a problem?  Do you not like spicy food?”

“I don’t like surprising food, as a rule. What’s this green stuff?” he asked suspiciously, pulling some of it out from the pita encasing.

“It’s lettuce, what does it look like?”

“I’m only asking! Merlin knows what’s in this thing” he said with distaste, poking it with his fork.

“All you need to know is that it’s all edible and you need to just put it in your face and stop acting like it’s such an atrocity.”

This got him a sulky look but silence as they ate, which was what he was used to. When he looked up again, Draco had eaten the kebab in its entirety and was mopping up the remaining sauce stains with his chips. The blonde caught him looking at him with an amused look and pointed his fork at him.

“Don’t say a word.”

“I wasn’t going to” Harry said, pressing his lips together to supress a laugh.

“I said do not!”

“I’m not!” But at this point, he was laughing.

“Okay, fine! So maybe I liked it.”

“I knew you would” Harry smirked.

“Bullshit. You knew nothing of the sort.”

“I knew everything of the sort because not even your posh arse could resist a kebab. They’re amazing.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Harry rolled his eyes, as he gathered up the dishes and brought them to the sink. As he did the dishes, Draco made a start on putting away the shopping, using magic to unload some of the bags, and doing the others manually. Every now and then, Harry would steal glances at him. He’d been surprised to find out he’d actually had a decent time with his former rival. At least, he’d manage to get through the day without a fight or one of them hexing the other. As he glanced at the other man again, he saw him examining the bottle of white wine he’d purchased.

“You can take that” Harry offered, drying his hands on a dish towel. “I probably won’t drink it.”

“Let me guess” Draco smirked. “You only drink red?”

Harry nodded reluctantly.

“Well I’m going to show you why you’re wrong. Tomorrow, we are drinking this and you are going to like it.”

He wasn’t entirely certain, but he was pretty sure the blonde had just invited himself back the following day. More surprisingly, he didn’t particularly mind. “Fine, but you won’t be changing my mind, no matter how much expensive wine you bring.”

“That’s what you think” came the confident, smirking reply. “Anyway, it’s getting late and I should be going.”

Harry nodded, accompanying his guest to the door. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah. Goodnight Potter.”

As he closed the door, Harry Potter wondered, not for the first time that day, how on earth he’d gotten here. As he made his way into the sitting room, he couldn’t conceal his pain anymore and collapsed into the armchair with an agonised hiss through gritted teeth. Summoning the medicated cream from his room, he carefully eased up the leg of his jeans, wincing as the abrasive denim dragged against his scarred skin. He examined the wound at first, noting how inflamed it had become after putting extensive pressure on it for so long.

The sound of a knock on his front door before it swung open had him scrambling to fix his jeans and jump to his feet, just as Malfoy appeared in the sitting room doorway.

“Sorry, I forgot my scarf” he said slowly, motioning to the grey fabric cast over the back of the sofa. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s fine” Harry said, much too quickly. His eyes followed Draco as he crossed the room to grab his scarf and turned back to the door.

He was still standing there, heart hammering in his chest, as the blonde let himself out. He released a shaky breath as he sunk back into the chair, wondering just how much of his injury Malfoy had seen. He assured himself that he’d been quick enough, that he’d hidden his scars on time, but the thought that Malfoy knew his secret haunted him into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pretends it hasn't been months and months since I last updated this* Thanks again to Bree for bugging me all the way through my college work to come back to this. I know this is a little short but I'm trying to get back into the swing of it

Harry Potter was convinced that the slightly intimidating brass knocker on the front door of Number 12 Grimmauld Place had seen more use in the past three days than it had in a good number of the years he had lived here. He opened the door, leaning subtly on his good leg as he looked on, unsurprised, at the figure that graced his door step. He opened his mouth under the preface of greeting his guest, but Draco just breezed right past him, the plastic carrier bags in his hand clinking with the unmistakable sounds of glass bottles. He had nearly forgotten that the blonde man had all but threatened him with the promise of white wine.

“Come in, why don’t you” he told the now empty doorway, closing the door and turning to see Malfoy in his kitchen, unloading a copious amount of bottles onto his countertop as glasses lined themselves up alongside the bottles. He took his time closing the distance between the front door and the kitchen, pacing his steps to hide the limp. The level of exertion he'd put himself through yesterday had taken its toll on him. "You could at least wait until you're asked in, you know. You always just stroll in like you live here."

"As long as my face is on your living room wall, I'm going to pretend that I do." The smirk the blonde gave him was practically playful and stopped him in his tracks.

"I've been meaning to remove that" he muttered and continued his hesitant shuffle towards the other man.

"But you haven't and until then" Draco shrugged, balling up the plastic bags and tossing them onto the counter behind him.

Harry nodded towards the bottles. “You came prepared.”

“I don’t do things by halves.”

“I see that. I’m only agreeing to this because I’m off work tomorrow.”

“No weekday drinking. Noted” Draco said with a slight roll of his eyes.

“Some of us have proper working hours” Harry returned, a little sharper than he had intended.

“Some of us have jobs we actually enjoy” was the teasing reply he received in return, which made him roll his eyes. There was a popping sound and Harry looked back quickly to see the first bottle had been uncorked and was pouring itself into the first two glasses. They raised themselves off the counter and into Draco's hands. He offered one to Harry, who took it.

"So what are we looking for here?" he asked a little sheepishly. "Like body and tones and stuff?"

Draco looked at him like he'd just suggested they bathe together in it. "What? No, just tell me if it tastes good."

"Yeah, okay, I can do that" he returned with a nod of confidence.

"Congratulations" Draco retorted and raised his glass to his lips

Harry did the same, looking to Malfoy often for guidance. He winced in disgust the moment the liquid hit his tongue and set aside his glass almost violently.

“That’s a ‘no’ then” Malfoy laughed at him and the next two glasses were summoned, the old ones removed from sight.

The second glass was bearable, the third vaguely pleasant and by then, they had moved to the sitting room. They had reversed their positions from the day before. Draco had settled himself in the arm chair, one leg draped over the arm of it. Harry sat a little awkwardly on his own couch, envying the almost cat-like contortion of Draco’s body and trying to think of a way to move the footstool over to him without drawing attention. He was startled out of his thoughts by the blonde extending a long leg and pushing the footstool towards him so it was just within his reach. Harry looked up in alarm, afraid that Draco might say something to him but the blonde was purposely looking away from him and towards the doorway, through which two more glasses were floating. Draco received his effortlessly.

“I’d forgotten how good you were at non-verbal magic” Harry said, feeling heat in his cheeks but ignoring it.

“It’s a useful skill to have” Draco shrugged a shoulder at him and brought his glass to his lips.

“I was never very good at it. I’m useless without my wand.”

He hadn’t seen anything funny in what he’d just said, but Draco snorted behind the rim of his glass and just ‘hmh’ed in response. Feeling foolish, Harry drank and found that he liked this one. He held onto his glass this time.

“You seem to like that one” Draco observed aloud. When Harry nodded, he smirked slightly. “Tesco’s finest, curtesy of your own fridge.”

The fact that this was the wine he had objected to so extremely the previous day stung a little. “I guess I was… wrong… in my judgement” he said slowly, not entirely sure he was talking about just the wine. Draco caught his eye and they shared a look for a moment longer than Harry was entirely comfortable with. He forced himself to look away and put down his glass. His head wasn’t as clear as it had been two glasses ago.

He shifted in his seat a little, finally kicking his legs up on the footstool, which he had been doing his best not to look at for the last few minutes.

“Does it hurt?”

Harry froze.  He swallowed, trying to dampen his suddenly dry throat. “Does what hurt?” he finally managed to ask but his voice was gruff and the words stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“Your leg. I’m guessing yesterday really took it out of you, huh?”

Draco wasn’t looking at him again, intently avoiding the possibility of eye contact. For a few moments, Harry just stared in bafflement and in fear. “Yes” he said eventually. “It hurts.”

“Is it bad?”

“Yes.”

Draco dropped his gaze to his glass. “Is that why you had to give up being an Auror?”

“Yeah. I’m- It’s never going to heal. It was dark magic. I was removed from the field after that and placed in the office.”

“Shit” Malfoy breathed. “No wonder you hate your job.”

“How did you know? I mean, how did you figure it out?”

Draco gave a lazy shrug. “I guess I just pieced it together. You move a lot less… surely than you used to, like you’re second-guessing every step. And, well, I guess you are. You hide it really well though, don’t worry about that, but I know you, Potter. Probably better than either of us is willing to admit.”

Harry thought about his own extensive bank of knowledge pertaining to all things Draco Malfoy that he’d amassed in his time in Hogwarts and knew that statement to true. He felt himself blush with the weight of it.

“If it’s really bothering you, I can go. I don’t want you to push yourself any more than you already have.”

“No!” Harry blurted suddenly and felt the colour in his cheeks rise further. Had that been concern he’d heard in his former rival’s tone? “I mean- I want you to stay. I’d like it if you stayed.”

The other man nodded and added a soft “Okay.”

A silence hung between them just a beat too long. “Can I ask you something?” Harry anxiously licked his lips as his question hung in the air. The blonde opposite him nodded. “Why did you stay?”

“You just asked me to stay?”

“No, I mean, earlier. The other day. When you found out it was me. I don’t understand why you didn’t just walk away.”

“I don’t either” Draco was finally looking at him and Harry couldn’t handle the weight of those grey eyes. “I think it was curiosity, more than anything. I never expected to see you again and then suddenly, there you were. And because of my job, no less. It felt a little too neat and tidy, you know? Like some carefully orchestrated plan of fate. And who am I to deny fate?” Another playful grin.

 _Everyone,_ Harry thought for a second. _You’re everyone._ But he knew that feeling all too well, the feeling of fate settled atop of his shoulders, of being unable to struggle free of its grip. For years, fate had been the enemy, but now he felt oddly thankful.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's pretend it hasn't been months and months and I won't have to feel guilty about it. Cool? Cool.

Harry Potter woke up in more pain than he’d been in in a long time. At some point in his sleep, he’d rolled onto his right side, which was now bearing the weight of his waking body and was not at all able for it. This didn’t even begin to compete with the pain in his head. The curtains were sloppily half-pulled, flooding the room with a thin strip of unbearably bright sunlight. He had no idea what time it was.

He was slow to get to his feet, faltering twice as he misjudged the weight he was putting on his weakened right leg and nearly falling. He made it down the stairs, even if it had taken him ten whole minutes, he made it to the bottom before he gave in and summoned an umbrella hidden in the stand behind the front door. Once it was in his hand, the glamour on the object fell, revealing it to be an ornate mahogany cane. Harry rested his weight on it and felt instant relief.

The cane made the walk to the kitchen bearable. Whatever spell Draco had been using to summon the glasses of wine the previous night had also washed the glasses after use and a row of shiny, clean wine glasses lined the draining board beside the sink. It hadn’t however, extended to the bottles. Several of them were scattered across the countertop. He balked at the sheer amount of them. A few of the bottles still had wine in them and had been recapped or recorked. Many were empty.

Harry had just begun to dispose of the empty bottles when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to find Draco leaning against the doorframe, regarding him with sleepy annoyance. “You’re making noise.” He was dressed in his clothes from last night, his black shirt rumpled as though he’d slept in it.

“You’re still here?”

“Someone had to put your drunk ass to bed” Draco laughed.

“That was you?!”

“Did you think you made it up those stairs yourself?”

“Honestly? Yes.”

“Think again, Potter. Are you going to offer me tea or…?”

Harry set about making two mugs of tea. He brought them to the table, where Draco had taken a seat and was cradling his head in his hands. He set the mugs down softly and took a seat himself. “I take it from the fact that I woke up in my clothes that last night ended less than ideally?”

Draco’s pale face flushed instantly as he reached for the mug and immediately brought it to his mouth without replying.

Harry glanced down at the cane that rested against his leg and remembered the conversation last night about his injury. “I guess you know now.” He paused for a second as Draco’s head whipped up and the blonde stared at him. He pushed on, “I don’t have to hide it anymore.”

“You didn’t have to hide it in the first place.” The sharp edge to Draco’s voice to surprised him. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I know. I just… didn’t want people to see me differently, you know?”

“They won’t. If anything, they’ll think more of you for your courage.”

“They will see me differently. Even I see myself differently.”

Draco let out a sigh. “If it’s any consolation, I know how you feel.”

“I’m not sure you do.”

“Trust me, I do.”

“No. You don’t. You look just as you did. You haven’t been irreparably scarred. Again.”

Draco’s brow furrowed. “Wait. Something tells me we’re not having the same conversation.”

“What were you talking about?”

“What were _you_ talking about?!”

“My leg?” Harry wasn’t sure he was following anymore. “You?”

“Definitely not that.” The other man stood abruptly. “I need a shower and a change of clothes.”

“Oh” Harry couldn’t hide the disappointment that seeped into his tone. “Okay.”

Draco’s expression softened. “How about I cook us dinner tonight? I wouldn’t subject you to another kebab this week.”

“You like kebabs” Harry reminded him.

“Semantics. You need real food, Potter. If you eat any more toast, you’ll probably die. I’m cooking. I’ll be back later.”

And with that, he was gone.

*

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon nursing the hangover that had resulted from their wine tasting session and feeling exceptionally glad that he’d taken a long weekend off work. The thoughts of sitting in the office after last night and the events of this morning made him shudder. Still, he was at a loss as to what to do with his time. The house was deafeningly quiet without Draco’s company. He passed the hours with menial tasks like cleaning up and sorting through some paperwork he’d brought home with him.

The sound of knocking on the front door seemed to bring him back to life. He jumped to his feet, entirely too quickly, and hurried to the door.

“Feeling better?” Draco asked in lieu of a greeting, walking into the house like he lived there, as usual.

“Marginally. You?”

“Fantastic. Have you eaten today?”

Harry followed Draco into the kitchen and pretended he hadn’t heard the question.

“You made toast. Of course.” Malfoy sighed in exasperation. “It really is a wonder you’re still alive.”

“Hey, you promised me dinner. I was holding out for a culinary masterpiece” Harry grinned.

“And a culinary masterpiece you shall receive. Pour me a glass of wine and we can get started.”

Harry poured them both a drink and watched as Draco rolled up the sleeves of his pale grey shirt and started pulling out chopping boards, pots and pans from cupboards Harry had never even noticed before. The blonde moved to the fridge and similarly began unloading food items, seemingly at random.

“It’s a good thing these are all my favourites as I don’t have to think about what to make” the Slytherin remarked, though Harry was still struggling to figure out what he was going to make. “Dice this onion for me.”

“Okay?” He took a board and a large knife and got to work.

“Your knife work is sloppy.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“You’re meant to be dicing, not hacking it apart.”

“It’s getting chopped, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, not properly.”

“If you’re so particular, why don’t you do it?!” Harry snapped.

“It’s not like I haven’t been doing things myself” Malfoy snapped in return, pulling the chopping board towards him. His knife moved quickly and surely and Harry looked down to see that, in the time it had taken him to clumsily chop half an onion, Draco had minced garlic, chopped tomatoes and located seasoning from the disused spice rack. “There. That’s how you do it.”

“That’s how I was doing it! Only slower...”

“You must have been rubbish at Potions” Malfoy commented, like he didn’t already know the answer.

“What are we even making?” Harry watched Draco combine things in a pot, which he was then ordered to stir. He took the spoon that was offered to him and started to stir the sauce that was coming together. Every now and then, he would take his eyes off his task to check what Draco was doing and his lack of attention would result in sauce splashing over the side.

“You’re making a mess. I’m making pasta.”

“Taking it from a packet doesn’t count as ‘making’” he remarked just as Draco pulled spaghetti from the plastic packet.

“Do you have a pasta maker? No? I didn’t think you did, otherwise I would be making it.”

Harry made a noise that said he didn’t believe him. Before long, he was pushed out of the way and told to set the table. He didn’t particularly mind being essentially told to get lost and occupied himself with the task he’d been given, nearly certain that this wasn’t one he could be criticised for. However, as Draco approached the table with two bowls of piping hot pasta, he was proven wrong.

“You have the cutlery the wrong way around. The fork should be on the other side.”

“Oh my God, Malfoy. Could you be any more pedantic?”

“Yes, actually. Eat your food.”

It pained him to admit it, but the meal was one of the nicest he’d had in a long time. He hadn’t pegged the former Slytherin as a decent cook but then again, he didn’t have the best track record when it came to Malfoy and assumptions.

“I take it you like it?” Draco was trying not to laugh.

Harry nodded enthusiastically.

“You must have been hungry, you fairly scoffed it.”

“If you’re that concerned about my wellbeing, you should cook for me more often.”

“It’s not like I have anything better to do for the next three weeks” the blonde teased in return. “Tomorrow then?”

“I go back to work tomorrow. But you can come round in the evenings. We can… hang out, or whatever.” He felt himself flush slightly.

“Okay.”

When he managed to drag his gaze back up, Malfoy was smiling at him. He returned the smile and they settled into a comfortable silence. He saw the smile slip from the other man’s face and a moment later, he spoke.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“About last night, do you remember… anything unusual?”

He felt his face scrunch up in confusion. “Other than the revelation that I like white wine, no. Nothing jumps out.”

“Nothing at all?

“No. Why? Did something happen?”

“No, of course not. Forget about it.”

Harry was not at all convinced but he let it drop.

“I should get going.” Draco was getting to his feet, his dish removing itself to the sink.

Harry sent his after it. “You don’t have to.”

“You’ve got work in the morning. I’ll go. What time are you finished work at?”

“I’ll be home by six.”

Draco nodded. “I’ll see you after six.”

He was gone out of the house before Harry could respond.


End file.
